Dancing For My Saviour
by sunnyshinybaby
Summary: She was a mysterious girl who moved down from Port Angeles to live with her father because of a certain...incident. She loves SM's saga, breathing in the world of vampires. But she didn't expect to be living in it... real sum. inside!
1. Chapter 1

I had an odd dream tonight. I was dancing; complicated steps with a whole lot of leaps and pirouettes. Anyway, I was dancing in front of a lot of mirrors, and there was a man watching me. In fact, there was a man, another man, and a girl. But I soon realized that they weren't _watching_ me, they were dancing _with_ me. In my dream I didn't like that. I wanted to dance alone, to be within myself. And I kept getting more and more frustrated that they weren't leaving. Didn't they get tired? Didn't they want to _stop_? It was an empty, dark, musky room, filled with a scent I didn't recognize. I heard clapping and cheering—it was mystifying me; there was no audience. I started dancing faster, trying to out-dance them, I suppose. But they matched pace with me, until I was so tired that I wanted to collapse. But there was a little voice in my head begging me to not give up. I didn't want to listen to the voice; I wanted to stop dancing. I was so tired. But I picked up my feet and danced even faster. I somehow knew that someday I would stop going faster, stop trying to beat the unbeatable. At that instant the doors flew open and light shown upon my sweaty, harassed face. There was a figure at the door, and it came to me—it embraced me. I felt safe and secure, I felt happy.

So happy…and then I awoke. I shook my head, frowning at the open curtains of my bedroom window. I had left them open the night before—stupid. It was my first day of school. A new school. Wasn't everything just peachy-keen? I rolled out of bed until my feet hit the floor, and started pulling on my jeans, trying to forget about the dream. I pulled on my yellow t-shirt—my lucky t-shirt—and a gray Paris hoodie. I jumped downstairs, grabbed my beige bag off of its hook in the coatroom, and walked into the kitchen to find a pile of dirty breakfast dishes waiting graciously in the sink. I sighed. Dad. He never washed dishes in the morning. I implored him to, but he always said he was busy. So I grabbed the bottle of soap off the counter, squirted it onto the nearest plate. I methodically scrubbed it, keeping my mind on the movement of the dishrag on china instead of what evidently needed to be faced. Dad had gotten me a car. Well, it was more of a hand-me-down. My cousin Patrick had had this car, but saved up money diligently to by something a little more…fancy. He had a beat up Corvette, but he was building up the parts. So I got his old Toyota. It was grey and had old white-walled tires—only God knows why _those_ were there; his grandfather?—which I was planning on getting rid of as soon as I rolled those pretty tires over a bed of nails. Dad worked at a tool shop; maybe I could steal some nails. Idle thoughts, idle thoughts. Before I knew it, I had finished the dishes. I checked my watch: it was 6:45. Time to leave. Lovely. I sighed, shoved my hands into a paper towel, and tossed the soiled napkin into the waste basket. I locked the house door, and ran to my car. It was starting to drizzle. I passed a lot of tourists on the way to Fork's High School. No wonder; I lived—literally—in the Twilight zone. Ever since Stephenie Meyer created that wonderful, mystical book, people had been flocking to Forks, Washington, for as long as I could remember. The movie came out two years ago; maybe with the New Moon movie coming out, they'd flock somewhere else. Like Italy. It's supposed to be beautiful this time of year. Of course I wasn't in deep resentment of the Twilight fans, if the setting of it was in Florida, I'd come there, too. It had been cool to see a bunch of reporters and stuff come to the school, and take pictures, and Dad had been ecstatic about the property values going up; people were moving here. I found a decent parking spot, shut off the engine, and checked my watch. 7:17. I had at least 15 more minutes. I sat in my car, turned the engine back on, and pushed a CD into the slot. Three Days Grace filled the car—September followed them up. I listen to varieties. I used to like country, too. But not anymore. Not since—I heard a squealing of tires. I looked sharply to my right, and saw Mitchell Grover's car skidding. It had rained last night, and it had frozen over. We'd thought that the salt machines had gotten every inch of this parking lot. Apparently not. I fumbled with my seat belt buckle, trying to shut off my car engine in time. I had gotten the door open about a fraction of an inch when I felt the jarring impact. My head struck the glass window, and I saw no more. It was cold…

"Honey?" I heard my father's voice. That was strange. What was dad doing at school? It wasn't career day, was it? Ouch. I blinked, and opened my eyes. My father was standing over me, his shock of salt-n-pepper hair standing on end, his grey-green eyes alarmed. I tried to sit up. Dad's arm pushed me back down.

"Just stay down for now, okay? I don't know if you should get up; Dr. Chaplin will be here any minute." Dr. Chaplin? What was this? Oh…okay. Maybe I should stay down. All of a sudden a giggle bubbled to my lips. Dad looked even more concerned. With all those "stay down" things I felt like I should be petted on the head and be told "good girl". The mental image was what had brought on the giggle. The doctor came in, in time to see my leaving smile. He grinned back at me.

"Mr. Lingley, your daughter is absolutely fine. Just a small bruise. She got lucky. That kind of impact should've…" they got into talking technically. I didn't pay attention. I was too absorbed in putting on my shoes. And looking at the wall. The sun was shining in, shockingly. I guess the rain decided to let up for once. I checked my watch. It was 8:45. Joy. I could still go back to school. I wondered if Mitchell Grover was alright. Not that I knew him well, or anything, it was just that I had talked to him briefly over the summer, and some of his friends. Those people were all I knew. I had lived in upstate Washington, with Mum. My parents had split when I was ten. I'm sixteen. Wait a minute. The sun was shining directly into the window; there was nothing obscuring it's path. Then what was leaving a shadow…? I blinked quickly, and the shadow disappeared. Hm. Maybe Dr. Chaplin was faulty. I'm imagining things now. Wonderful. I kept looking, trying to see it again. It didn't appear. Yup. I was going crazy. I stood up, stretched, and shoved my hands into my hoodie. My head throbbed a little; I could feel a bruise starting to form. I need to stop going off on random tangents. Here I go again…

"Honey?" my dad asked, looking at me. I might have been talking to myself again. I used to do that, actually. My drama teacher said that it was healthy.

"Yeah, dad?"

"Do you feel up to going back to school, or staying home?" Hm. Should I skip? Yay or nay? I suppose…nay.

"I can go back to school. I wouldn't want to miss my first day!" I replied cheerily. Shockingly, Dr. Chaplin totally bought my cheery act. Dad? Not so much. He laughed and rumpled my hair.

"Alright, honey, I'll drive you back. I sent your car to the mechanics. It has a dent in one of the doors and a window was smashed." He told me, as we walked out of the door. A few minutes later, I was sitting in my physics class. My eyes were on the teacher, my ears on the lesson, and my heart thudding painfully. I was trying to ignore all the stares my classmates kept giving me. It wasn't easy. But, in my mind, I was still dancing.


	2. Chapter 2

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School was over. I sighed in relief. Then I groaned. I suppose I should walk home? Might as well. I could stop in the forest that I saw. It seemed pleasant. Whenever I visited Dad down here I would always go to the woods. It was so peaceful, so…enclosed. Like a safety net. I liked the fields, too, but they were too open. I hitched my backpack onto my shoulder, and tightened the knots on my hood. I checked my watch; it was 3:00, on the dot. I grinned—I loved to check the time. Ever since I was a little girl, I would point at the clock and say what time it was, all the time. I suddenly heard a car horn honking. I swiveled my head around, to see what it was. I saw a light blue Mustang convertible, and I stared at it lustily. I've_ always _wanted a light blue Mustang. Even if it wasn't a convertible. There was just something about the design; I wanted a vintage one, like in Princess Diaries. Amanda and a couple of other girls whose names I'd forgotten stopped by me. Amanda was driving that wonderful car.

"Hey! Do you need a ride?" Amanda asked, and another girl, I think her name was Hannah, rolled down her window to stare at me. I smiled quickly.

"No, but thank you. I like to walk."

"Okay…are you sure?"

"I am absolutely positive. Good-bye!" I called, as Amanda steered the four-door back onto the road. The girls waved back. I sighed with relief once they were gone. Not that I didn't like them, they were very kind, but I didn't know them well enough. And I got edgy and awkward around a bunch of girls that I didn't know. My best friend Jill always used to laugh at me when I cringed at her going to an all-girls' school. _I don't know how you can stand it. I would die,_ I would say, and she would laugh and respond, _I feel more comfortable around a bunch of girls. There are no guys to dress up for; it's all really casual. _And I would grimace again, and roll my eyes at her. _I suppose I'm more comfortable in a roomful of guys I don't know than a roomful of girls. Guys don't judge you—you just pass a couple of good jokes and you're set for the evening._ I exhaled heavily again. I missed Jill. Soon enough, I came to the fringe of green and brown. I ducked under a tree branch, and I was lost. If I turned around, I could barely see the road. Of course I'd get back in time to fix dinner. I could easily do my homework out here, too. I continued to traipse through the foliage, trying to find that little clearing. Ah, there it was! It wasn't very round, but it was a clearing. There was a small stream running through, and a log was lying peacefully on the ground. Green moss covered it so thickly you could barely see the rough bark. I sat on it, and pulled my English textbook from out of my backpack. I started to read the chapter we were assigned. I heard twigs snapping after a while, and male voices. I stayed put. If I didn't move, maybe they wouldn't see me. Oh, don't be silly, maybe they weren't headed this way at all. But maybe they were. The voices got closer. My grip tightened on my book, and I wound the strap of my purse around my finger unconsciously, ready to escape. Suddenly two men burst through the trees, their eyes wild. I started to get up, I was afraid, but something stopped me. I continued to look at them. They were beautiful. One looked to be about seventeen, the other at least nineteen. They looked exactly the same, yet totally different. They both had pale skin, and dark eyes. They were both incredibly gorgeous. The younger looking one had tousled, straight, white-blonde hair, a square jaw, and an angled nose. His features were sharp yet strong. He was lean and fluid in motion, like a dancer. His light hair looked dark against his pallor. The other had straight, spiky black hair, and wasn't as pale. But there was a film of pallor to him above his skin tone that automatically reminded me of one thing…vampires. I shook my head quickly. Of course there was no such thing; this place was making me delusional. I stood up, and looked at them. Again. They looked very shocked to see me, but instantly put on dazzling, beautiful smiles. What the hell were two male models doing in the woods of Forks? The one with the white blonde hair met my gaze.

"Hello." I said evenly, averting my eyes and packing up my things.

"Hello to you, too. What's a pretty girl like you doing out here in the woods all alone?" said the boy with black hair. It stood out comically against his skin; I would have laughed, if not for the strain that crossed between me and the two boys.

"Getting some peace and quiet, but I suppose—ludicrously, maybe—that that is impossible. Excuse me," I said, my voice a tad curt. I turned on my heel and walked away, feeling their eyes on me. When I got back to the road I heard loud guffaws and something snapping. Maybe they were drunk. But they didn't _look_ drunk, they looked…amazing. Beautiful and gorgeous…nothing could compare. I started to walk home faster, scared, suddenly. I got home, and Dad wasn't home yet. Even just in the few months that I had been with him, ever since…well, ever since I'd moved, he'd become my best friend. My dad rocked. I hung up my things in the hallway closet, then continued on into the kitchen. Things hadn't changed much since my last visit. The walls were still freakishly multi-colored(my friends all thought it was amazing when they visited with me) and the cupboards were still of wood; dark patina. I sighed, and slipped a CD into the player next to the wall. Music filled the room, and I got dinner started. I checked the clock: 4:45. Dad would be home in at least fifteen minutes. Sighing, I let the pasta strain and walked outside. There was a patch of ground that I had tilled in the corner of the garden; my plants were inside in their little cardboard pots, not done growing yet. I looked up at the sky, glowering. Thick gray clouds were covering the blue sky that I loved—they looked like they were trying to suffocate me and they liked it. I stuck my tongue out at them. Not that I didn't like stormy, rainy weather, it's just that this was too much. I heard the sound of tires on the gravel. Dad was home. I ran back inside, and spilled the pasta into a bowl. I drizzled olive oil over it and mixed it up with some fried hamburger meat. I set it on the table and worked on the salad. Dad came in, and kissed my head.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm cool. I had to walk home though."

"Why didn't you catch a ride with someone?"

"I liked walking home alone. It was fun." Dad rolled his eyes at me and went to hang up his coat and suitcase. He was a physical therapist.

"What do you want to drink?" I called to him, opening the glassware cupboard.

"Water!" he yelled back. I took two glasses down and filled them with water. I set them on the table; taking two plates out, I put those on too. Turning the volume of the radio down a bit, I sat at the table. Dad didn't like the music as loud as I did. So, there was room for conversation. Dad joined me at the table in a bit, and we said cheers.

"So, meet any girls yet?"

"Well, when I was walking home, Amanda and some of her friends pulled up in her car and asked me if I wanted a ride. I don't know them that well and it would've been awkward, so I told them no thank you." Dad sort of looked at me like he was exasperatedly waiting for me to say something else.

"What kind of car was it." He stated. He was used to me drooling about cars. I sighed, and twisted my fork around a pile of spaghetti.

"Mustang GT convertible, light blue, about 1982. It was gorgeous. You should have seen it. It had a black interior and chrome spinners." I sighed, and put the twirled spaghetti into my mouth. Dad shook his head at me and grinned.

We finished dinner soon, and, leaving the dishes to Dad, I rushed up to my room to do my homework. But I couldn't concentrate. I kept thinking of the boys in the woods. Especially the blonde one. The way he stared; it was so serene, and his eyes were amazing. A dark brown, almost black, color. I wonder what his name is…I'd have to ask Amanda or one of her friends tomorrow. When I finished my homework, I took a shower quickly, kissed Dad goodnight, and went upstairs. I put a CD into my CD player, jammed the earphones into my head, opened the window a crack, and tried to relax the images in my head. They wouldn't disappear.

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